Whatever's Left Up in Flames
by Arkantoz
Summary: AU. Mercenary Santana Lopez saves a princess from marriage and unwittingly begins an intergalactic war. When she finds herself on one side of war and her lover torn between warring nations, it is all she can do to hold on to the hope that love prevails.


**Title: Whatever's Left (Up in Flames)**

**Summary: AU. Mercenary Santana Lopez saves a princess from a marriage and unwittingly begins an intergalactic war. When she finds herself on one side of war but sees her lover torn between the warring nations, it is all she can do to hold on to the hope that love will prevail.**

**Chapter 1: [Run]**

_Jet City; Nighttime_

The rain saturates the air in full sheets of water as a plane clumsily hovers over a tower, barely allowing enough time for four hooded and masked figures to emerge from the hull onto the landing pad. One of the shorter figures takes the lead not even pausing to see if the other three would fall into step.

"The Queen has been expecting you," a timid man addresses the leader, while trying to keep up with the figure's brisk walking pace. 

"Yes, well if the Queen hadn't chosen to reside on this damned planet where it rains all the time we wouldn't be having this problem would we?" The figure spits back, her voice betraying her annoyance.

The group falls silent as a particularly large and howling gust of wind threatens to blow them over. Immediately the crew has thrown themselves onto the drenched ground of the landing pad, in an attempt to avoid being blown over. The five figures stumble and crawl the rest of the way to the metal door at the end of the landing pad.

Through the door a bright white light shines through revealing a surgically clean passageway. The group trudges along through a pristine white hallway marred only by the rain and mud dripping off the passengers' clothing. Finally, the group arrives at a set of tall steel doors which open as though sensing their presence.

"You're late. I've been waiting," a cold voice fills the large room echoing off every surface.

The voice's owner emerges from the shadows of a white throne. The owner is naught but a girl: blonde hair cascading down her back, hazel eyes hard and determined, white outfit pristine, ironed, and dry.

"Well, Quinn, it's raining. It's also incredibly windy. We can all state the obvious now can't we?" The leader of the passengers unmasks herself, revealing a mess of uncombed, drenched licorice black hair and glowing black eyes.

"Lopez. How I've missed your sharp witty comments. But that's not why I called you and your crew here." The Queens gleaming hazel eyes sweep over the faces of the crew before she continues. "As you are well aware, the resource known as, Element 158, has become increasingly difficult to obtain. It is also the key to success. I need you and your renegades to stake a claim to territory with Element 158. I don't care how it is done. Just make sure that it gets done."

"What do we get out of this?"

"You will of course be paid in whatever currency you choose once you have completed your mission. So can I count on you Lopez?"

"Fine."

"Good." Quinn turns around one last time before leaving, "Oh, and Lopez? Dinner tonight?"

Santana nods and watches the Queen leave before she ushers her crew out into the passageway. 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-

"So going after new resources huh?" Santana kicks off her wet boots, handing them to Quinn's personal servant to be dried.

Quinn busies herself, pouring two glasses of sweet nectar and handing one to Santana, "Just business my dad hasn't been able to take care of."

"What makes you think that I'll be able to take care of it if the High King hasn't been able to take care of it?"

"His mercenaries have no loyalty. I know that you're at least loyal."

"I'm glad my loyalty is proving a useful skill. I was beginning to wonder…"

"You're also a damn good mercenary."

"What was that Fabray? Can you repeat that?" Santana intentionally leans her head closer to Quinn's and exaggeratedly cups her ears as though deaf.

"Screw you Lopez," Quinn replies chortling at the mercenary's antics.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

After a long dinner in which very little business was discussed but a lot of nectar drunk, Santana makes her way back to her room for the night.

The soft click of her boots against the hard ground comforts Santana. Though she'd rather die than tell Quinn; the slightly muffled metallic tap her boot heels made against the tiled floor Quinn's hallway reminds of her home.

Santana's never spent a considerable amount of time in one place; instead she flies from place to place spending no more than a week or two at most in one place.

Quinn's home is the only place she visits with any sort of regularity and that's only when either Quinn has a job for her to carry out or she needs funds.

As she lays down to rest on the comfy clean bed, she briefly wonders what her life would had been like had she never met Quinn. She'd be making more money that's for sure, as her unwavering loyalty to the heir apparent had lost a good job on more than one occasion.

Still, she admits, though only to herself, that she'd be lost without Quinn. At least with Quinn she feels more equal, more level with. They're almost friends. Her crew, though loyal to her and dependable in a crisis, treat her as their boss and commander, rather than their friend.

She'd not have it any other way but sometimes she'd like to have a friend or partner on board. Someone she can trust and go to for advice.

Maybe, someone she can love.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

_Valley of the Sun; Midmorning _

Brute force is more Santana's style. She likes the sound of guns, of knives being sharpened, of bone crunching on bone. It's not so much an obsession with violence than an addiction to the high she gets from dominating all the best warriors the universe has to offer.

But, it is good form to always try to negotiate before just decimating everyone. So Santana finds herself and her crew talking very civilly to the chieftain of the small tribe. She feels as though she's getting somewhere when a commotion from outside disturbs their conversation.

"I do not wish to marry you. You dirty pig." A high female voice screams the words with the harsh sounds of the tribal language.

"You must marry somebody, Daughter of Dan. Who is a better suitor than I, son of Abrams?"

"Leave me alone!"

The tribal leader rushes out of the tent, followed quickly by first his bodyguards, then Santana and the crew. In the center of a circle of tents, a glowing, pale-skinned, goddess is trying in vain to escape the grip of a particularly devious looking scrawny

"Brittany. Daughter of Mine." The leader's deep voice resonates and immediately silence falls upon the tribe.

The son of Abrams releases his grip on Brittany as soon as his eyes meet those of his chief's. Brittany violently pulls away from the unwanted suitor and rushes to her father, hesitating for only a moment when she realizes that her father has company.

"Come. We must talk." Dan offers his hand to his daughter and leads her back into the tent before beckoning Santana and her crew to enter the tent as well.

"This is my daughter Brittany. Brittany, these crewmen are here to try and negotiate for something or another. But that will have to wait, as you and I need to have a rather long discussion regarding your inability to understand the word suitor."

Santana loses any patience she had tried to have. First she has to try and negotiate in the first place, now she has to come back and negotiate more?

Puck and Finn are already pulling Santana away from the chieftain as soon as she starts yelling about how she should just go and get the Element 158 for her goddamn self. She yells and kicks and punched air until the chieftain booms at her to "leave and never think about coming back" and she vows to come back and get everything she wants.

The march back to camp is silent and as a way for making up for her previous outburst that probably cost them an ally, Santana offers to take the late watch shift. No one disagrees with her and the rest of the crew settles into their tents to sleep while she settles in for a long night of self-reflection or something.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

_Valley of the Sun; Nighttime_

Droplets of moisture from the night air cling to Santana's skin where the drops congeal and slowly make paths down her arms, her legs and her body. She may be genetically predisposed to handle heat better than the others, but it doesn't make it any more enjoyable.

When a figure approaches their camp Santana instinctively reaches for her knife and readies her pistol. However, the shadow that approaches is the blonde princess from earlier in the day: the one that was meant to be married off.

"Please do not shoot. I do not come on my father's behalf. I come on my own."

The blonde pleads with Santana dropping to her knees before the brunette. The blonde's words are slow and purposeful making Santana aware that the young princess may be learned but not practiced in Common, the universal language.

"What is your business with me then Princess, if you do not seek me on your father's behalf?"

"I need you to take me with you."

"Excuse me?"

"My father he plans to marry me off and I don't... I can't – those men, they're all brutes. They kill and plunder and steal from other peoples. You saw how Artie, son of Abrams, treated me today!"

"I kill and steal from other peoples. Why am I different than they Princess?"

"If you had been one of those men guarding the campsite, I would have already been gutted. But you have waited for me to explain myself, rather than just rushing to fight on instinct."

"Do you have any skills Princess?"

"I can sew, weave, tan hides, paint, ride– "

"So nothing that would be of use for a crewman riding on a plane."

The Princess drops her head and prepares herself to be verbally dismissed, to be sent back to camp. She waits for the inevitable laugh, after all how could she, a tribal princess, ever think that it would be acceptable to fly on a plane with a crew of strangers.

The laughing never happens. When Brittany raises her eyes for a split second again, she sees that Santana is contemplating her with dark serious eyes.

"If you come with us you will work for your share. You will have much to learn. You will not be treated as a Princess."

"I am ready. I am willing."

"Very well. Sleep. We leave in the morning." 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

A/N: So this is an idea that has been floating around in my brain for a while now.

Tell me what you think. (Concrit and questions are welcome)

;)

Cheers!

-A.R.K.


End file.
